


Tire Tracks

by ZeroFizzy



Category: Supernatural, Tru Calling
Genre: Crossover, Other, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 04:15:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18748825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroFizzy/pseuds/ZeroFizzy
Summary: Nine people turn up at the morgue with mysterious tire tracks across their bodies. The problem? There were no vehicles involved in their deaths.None of them ask for help and Tru is out of leads, but that all changes when she watches the culprit claim it's tenth victim; Dean Winchester.Back in time, Tru needs to find a way to save Dean's life and stop the culprit from claiming any more but she ends up dealing with much more than she expected...





	Tire Tracks

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know if anyone's gonna read this fic,,, i mean i'm literally the only person on the planet left who still watches tru calling (at least like as far as i know) but i hope this gets some hits because it was really fun to write. even if u don't watch tru calling all u rlly need to know to appreciate this is that tru works at a morgue and dead people can ask for her help and she gets forced back in time until she stops them from dying (like in mystery spot kinda)
> 
> yeah also ik that tru calling was set in like 2003 and supernatural season three was 2007-ish but don't read too much into that just pretend tru calling was in 2007
> 
> (i was inspired to write this when i learnt that jensen from tru calling was named after and was originally gonna be played by jensen ackles??? then the crossover kinda started building itself)

Tru let out a sigh as she analysed the body Davis had wheeled in. A man with two identical tire tracks pressed into his flesh as if a van had driven right over him.

"Michael Smith. Died in his bed from injuries common in people hit by a car. No signs of a break-in or struggle. He was asleep on the second story. It's the ninth one like it this week" Davis murmured, his eyes still scanning the corpse

"And the ninth time I don't understand it." Tru returned wearily, rubbing a hand over the bridge of her nose "It didn't make sense when Jeffery Draycott got run over in a coffee shop either, or when it hit Lukas Collins when he was inside a car. I don't get it, how can a car hit somebody in their sleep?"

"Our job isn't to work out the murders Tru, it's to-"

"-Analyse the bodies. Yeah. I know. You've said. But don't you think this is weird?" Tru said with a hint of desperation

"Of course I do, but unless one of them asks for help there's no way of working it out. Well, unless whatever it is goes for me, heh" Davis laughed awkwardly, stopping abruptly at the look Tru was giving him.

"I know there isn't," Tru replied as if Davis hadn't made his last remark "But there are definitely connections between them. I mean, all of the guys were in their late twenties to early thirties, none of them were married or in any kind of long-term relationship, all of them were around this part of town when they died. Maybe the killer had a personal grudge against them all or something?"

"Yeah, Tru, but you're forgetting the real issue here. They were all run over inside by cars that seemingly don't exist! No evidence of a break-in in any of the cases. How can you explain that?"

"I don't know, honestly. Maybe I'll hang around here a while, see if this guy asks for help so I can get to the bottom of this."

"Sure. I'm going home but call me if you work it out alright?" Davis said, pulling off his medical gloves

"Yeah, sure, Davis. Don't get too close to any cars."

\---

Tru drizzled more maple syrup on her stack of pancakes. The two coffees she'd ordered hadn't woken her up, so she'd decided to buy a treat to distract herself from the pounding headache brought on by her two consecutive all-nighters spent at the morgue. She'd been researching the victims of the string of odd deaths hoping for a lead, a connection she'd missed but she'd turned up nothing.

She was distracted when a man sat at the chair opposite her. His was handsome, but she still shifted uncomfortably when she saw his eyes flit down to her bust momentarily.

"Hey, uh, can I help you?" She spoke up

He cleared his throat, seemingly snapping out of a mild daze and looked at her with bright green eyes "Morning ma'am. You work at the morgue, right?"

"Yeah, I do. Who wants to know?"

"Agent Allen Roeser, FBI" he flipped open an FBI badge "I'd like to ask you a few questions" 

Tru scanned the badge and saw clear pointers that it was fake. Ignoring her instincts to leave, she gave into her intrigue and decided to humour him for a while. "Hm, right, and why does the FBI want to know about the morgue?"

"We've caught wind of a string of mysterious deaths, maybe involving car tracks? Ringing a bell?"

"Yeah" She replied simply

The man stared at her for a moment, as if he expected her to say more. She didn't. He shifted a little in his seat and continued "So, you uh, you got any theories on what's happening here Miss...?"

"Davies. Miss Davies. And no, we're completely stumped. Is it my turn to ask a question now?"

"Yeah. Sure, yeah" The man stumbled, seemingly a bit put off by her sharp tone

"How is this a case for the FBI?"

The man blanked for a second but was rescued when his phone started to ring in his pocket. It sounded like the beginning of Deep Purple's 'Smoke On The Water', and Tru had the brief thought that whoever this man is he'd probably get along well with Harrison. "Excuse me," he said, getting up and looking back at her a few times as he walked out the door.

Tru was intrigued. A strange man sits at her breakfast table, shows her a fake FBI badge and asks questions about the suspicious deaths she's been wondering about for weeks?

Thinking back on it, she realised it was shady from any angle. Making up her mind, she abandoned her pancakes and followed the man out of the diner, making an effort to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"-where are you?" he asked down the phone as soon as he got out the door. There was a pause as whoever was on the other end, presumably an accomplice, replied "Yeah, alright. Get any leads from his girlfriend?" There was an even longer pause "Crap. Yeah, the morgue girl didn't know anything either. Looks like we're out of leads, Sammy"

'Out of leads'? Maybe he was with the FBI, but that badge was fake and Tru was sure of it. She stopped trying to work it out as she heard the man speak down the phone again.

"Yep, I'm still by the diner. See you in a minute" The man closed his phone and pocketed it. Soon, a tall guy with long hair appeared from across the street, jogging across the road to meet him. To their credit, neither of them looked untrustworthy in their slightly dishevelled suits, but she supposed that was part of their act.

"Hey, Dean," The tall guy said. Hm. So 'Allen' was using a fake name as well "I did a few searches for fishy deaths in the area before I got here. A few years back, a woman called Elise Berkely drove over her boyfriend with a van. Police found the body with two identical tire tracks on it"

"Sounds promising," Dean said, "Where's she?"

"Dead. Shot herself in the head after the deed was done"

"So, what are you thinking? Vengeful spirit?"

Wait. Vengeful spirit? Ghosts? Who the hell were these guys?

"Maybe, but the question is, what is she vengeful for? I mean, she was the murderer right?"

"Maybe her husband just enjoyed the good parts of life a bit too much, if you know what I'm getting at"

"Sounds like someone I know," The taller man said quietly, before speaking up "Worth checking out, definitely. Let's get back to the motel, see if we can get anything more on Elise"

The two men went to cross the road but, as they were almost at the curb, a deafening screech filled the air.

Dean was flung through the air like a ragdoll, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

"DEAN!" The tall guy ran to Dean's side, kneeling down next to him hysterically. Even from where she was, Tru could seen his face contorted into a look of pure horror and loss.

It seemed like everything was going in slow motion. Tru ran towards Dean in time to see two red stripes of blood across his body. Almost like-

Dean's head whipped around unnaturally. His glazed green eyes unblinking, he uttered the two words that Tru could never get used to hearing;

"Help me."

 


End file.
